


Put My Faith in Something Unknown

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5404283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He doesn’t know how long he sits there, suspended between thought and action, unable to feel. At some point, he becomes aware that there’s a hand on his face. A warm palm cradles his jaw, and a thumb brushes across his cheekbone tenderly.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put My Faith in Something Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I've lured you all in with my other porny pieces . . . I'm gonna punch you in the feelings. And torture Stiles, because I'm evil like that. 
> 
> (Blame BelleAmante. 'S what I do.)

 

 

Stiles is sitting on his bedroom floor staring at the wall and trying, desperately, to feel something. Anything. He can’t. He’s been scooped clean, left brittle and empty.

His dad can’t look at him anymore without something broken lurking behind his eyes. Derek’s gone, and hasn’t responded to any of Stiles’s attempts to reach him. Scott doesn’t trust him anymore, won’t listen, because of Donovan. Because Stiles isn’t and never has been Scott. Because he never can be. And Theo seems determined to send Beacon Hills straight to hell faster than it was already heading there.

He’s lost so many people. To death, to monsters, his own inadequacy. He wonders what the point is anymore. It’s not like anything he can do will make any kind of difference. Not now.

Maybe numbness is better. His eyes close.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, suspended between thought and action, unable to feel. At some point, he becomes aware that there’s a hand on his face. A warm palm cradles his jaw, and a thumb brushes across his cheekbone tenderly. Stiles wonders if it’s real, and who the hand might belong to if it is. Eventually, he scrapes up the willpower to open his eyes.

He doesn’t expect to see Peter Hale kneeling beside him on his bedroom floor, but he’s too hollowed out to be surprised. Or afraid. Or curious as to why the man is here instead of in Eichen House, or anywhere that isn’t Beacon Hills.

Peter’s expression is soft as his eyes rove over Stiles’s face. His thumb continues to sweep back and forth across Stiles’s cheek. “I know,” he whispers.

“I didn’t say anything,” Stiles mumbles.

“You didn’t have to.”

And then Peter’s lips are brushing his. It’s not really a kiss. Not until Stiles breathes into Peter’s mouth, finding that he’s hyperaware of his lips and the way the slightly chapped skin catches on Peter’s stubble. When he manages to capture Peter’s bottom lip between his own, Peter pulls back. Stiles blinks slowly, realizes that he’s stiff from sitting in one position for so long.

He doesn’t fight it when Peter manhandles him up off the floor, or when he’s being stripped down. As he lies in his childhood bed, listening to the steady beat of Peter’s heart under his ear and with Peter’s arm heavy across his shoulders, he thinks he feels peaceful. He knows he shouldn’t—not at all, and definitely not with Peter. But it feels good. Better than he can remember feeling in a long time.

He’ll take it.


End file.
